And So It Goes
by BrightSideoftheMoon
Summary: Jack Frost is an orphan living on the streets and stealing to get his three meals a day. When he catches the attention of a certain Australian mob boss-in more ways than one-, he won't just have to worry about where his food is coming from. Jackrabbit. Human gang-war AU. Warnings for Rape/Non-con, violence, smut and language.
1. Chapter 1

**So, I was originally going to wait to post this until I had already had a decent start on my other fic 'Family' because it is in the process of going through a major reboot, but I wanted to post something new so I could let people know that chapters 1-4 on 'Family' have been updated. Fanfiction doesn't let you guys know when I fix a chapter, and I didn't want anyone to be overwhelmed with new content. So if any of you want to stay updated on that situation, there you go!**

 **Okay, I also wanted to put some darker and more mature themes in 'Family' but I didn't want to change the rating again so that's what this fic is for! Beware, there will be some smut and rape in future chapters. Of course, I will let you know when that stuff comes up and I'll make it possible to skip over without missing much.**

…

Jack fell off a ladder. A tall ladder, one he had to jump to just to reach the first rung-and given his height, that was saying something. The ladder wasn't his, no, it sat screwed into the side of a mildewed-brick building. It was the slick, green substance that made him slip, for when he came to a rung split down the middle he opted to kick at the wall with his feet to propel himself upwards-but that didn't work out. It was times like that when he wished he had the ability to fly.

He laid on his back gazing up in defeat at the ladder extending up into the humid, low-hanging clouds. A heavy sigh escaped from his lips. His head had cracked against the pavement and a loud ringing sounded in his ears, making the rest of the world around him look like an old, noiseless, black and white movie.

Just vanishing over the top of the ladder, a voice shouted down to him: "You're going to have to be faster than that, _Frost!"_

Jack thought about yelling back to the other boy, but the pain in his head made his snide comment die in his throat. It was a game the two of them played. Definitely not a very nice one, but it was a game nonetheless. Oftentimes Jack was declared the winner, but on days like these where the weather seemed warmer and the white-haired boy had spent most of the night keeping a watchful eye on the other homeless people occupying the alleyway, he just didn't have it in him to keep up. Besides, he _had_ to watch out for the other people. The last time he fell asleep to early, he was woken up again by some drunk bastard trying to slip off Jack's clothes.

Jack didn't move from his spot on the ground but instead enjoyed the cool sensation of the shaded concrete on the back of his head. It wasn't regular that Jack got a chance to relax. After all, growing up on the streets wasn't as laid back a lifestyle as it was cracked up to be. There was a time Jack could just vaguely remember having everything, and wanting nothing. Now he stayed up well into the night sparing harsh glances at the drowsy drunks that walked out of the nearby bar, and stopped to eye at him suggestively.

He thinks it has something to do with his white hair. It certainly wasn't a normal hair color to have, but he has to keep insisting it's natural. When did people stop believing in things just because they seemed improbable? _The Cold War. Maybe that did it. The Red Scare, unbridled fear of communism, that had to be it,_ Jack thought to himself. He didn't know for sure, but it passed enough time to wonder, didn't it?

By now, the sun had gotten unbearably hot, and Jack was forced to get up. He took his time standing up and dusting the dirt off his blue hoodie and brown pants. Not that it did much-he was always covered in some kind of dirt now a days.

Jack made a half-hearted effort to scan the area for any signs of his friend, Peter, but he didn't see him. So Jack went off on his own.

He was just about to walk into the street, when a band of shouting voices approached him. They sounded like they were running, and usually that didn't mean anything _good,_ so Jack ducked back into the alley behind a wall until the voices passed. Out of the corner of his eye, Jack saw an older man in his late thirties getting chased down the street by two men in pressed suits. It definitely wasn't an odd thing to see-gangs tracking down people who they thought stepped out of line. By how the chased man panted and kept stealing nervous glances at the gaining men over his shoulder, Jack guessed this guy was in some deep shit.

Jack shrank back into the alley thinking he should wait awhile longer before stepping into broad daylight. He didn't have any beef with any of the gang bosses at large in the city, but that didn't mean it was impossible for him to get dragged into something. And orphans were a pretty easy target, too.

The smell of pies, cake, and bread wafted from the bakery across the street and Jack couldn't help but _melt_ when it reached his nostrils. His stomach growled for added effect-which only did to worsen Jack's growing knowledge of just how damn _hungry_ he was. He groaned inwardly at his inability to keep himself under control. _Just how pathetic can I get?_ Jack thought.

Against his better judgment, Jack stepped closer to the street, peering around the corner for any sudden movements or other tell-tale signs of trouble. Seeing nothing, Jack cautiously made his way into the sidewalk and looked both ways twice before he crossed the street. Every so often, a particularly loud sound-a baby wailing, a trash can being kicked over, a car honking-jolted the boy out of his concentration and caused him to freeze in his tracks. Of course, from experience, he learned freezing in your tracks was _not_ a good idea. It was always better to keep running, even if you were limping.

With a sigh of relief, Jack found himself standing in front of the epicenter for ever tantalizingly-delicious smell within a three mile radius. Peering through the window while trying not look at all suspicious, he noticed how empty the shop was. Rather than thinking of _why_ it was empty, Jack saw it as a stroke of good luck and decided to go on in.

A shrill bell dinged twice when Jack pushed open the door. Immediately, he felt like he had more attention than he wanted; his presence had never been alerted like that and he didn't like the new spotlight. Over in the corner, a man sat behind an unfolded newspaper that obscured his entire face. Next to the man, stood another at his side looking out the large shop window, and in the other open seat sat one more. Those were the store's only occupants-save for the store manager and one employee of course. Now that Jack saw how empty it really was, he wasn't sure if that would make his job a whole lot easier or a whole lot harder.

The white-haired boy huffed when he realized he stood out now more than ever. No going back now though.

Jack walked over to the counter when the manager disappeared in a back room and the employee had her back turned counting money from the register. _Now._

An array of pastries and different types of breads were spread out across the display counter in glass coverings. There were a few items left uncovered and Jack chose those to be his target of focus. He strolled over as casually and purposefully as he could, hopefully to give the impression that he might be a potentially paying customer. Keyword: _potentially._

The employee didn't look up or turn around and Jack didn't hear any rustling newspaper; he was in the clear. He walked up to the counter and as discreetly as possible, began stuffing the cakes into his hoodie pocket. This wasn't his thought at that _exact_ moment, but that icing smearing into the blue fabric of his hoodie would be a bitch to get off later. Jack finished filling his pockets just as the manager walked back out. "Hey!" the man shouted and caught the entire shop's attention.

 _Shit!_ Jack scrambled to pull himself together and rushed out the door and down the street before the more overweight manager could even get around the counter. The younger boy laughed to himself when he saw no one chasing after him. He released a sigh of relief and went to take a shortcut back to one of the back alleys to eat his dinner.

Back in the shop, the man sat down his newspaper, the pages crinkling as he did so. The shop manager rubbed a dirty rag across his sweaty brow in irritation while he inspected the damage done. There wasn't much of anything out of place: maybe a table was pushed a few inches off, and maybe there were a few empty spaces in the neatly arranged cake display. But that was it. E. Aster Bunnymund was impressed.

"Hey boss?" the man sitting in the chair next to him asked, "Should we go after him?"

Aster mulled it over for a second, humming lightly in thought. "Sure. Why not? He's an interesting fella, isn't he?" the boss decided. "If anything, ya know I'm always looking for more obedient underlings. You saw where he went, didn't ya?" Aster addressed the man at the window.

"I did."

"Great," Aster smiled and put out the cigar he had held between his teeth. "And ya know what to do if he's difficult, just to don't scratch up 'is face too much, I happen to like looking at it."

With that the Australian gang boss got up from his chair and lit a new cigar for his walk to the car. The bell chimed when he left the store and disappeared down the street. His men stayed behind and gathered their belongings, taking extra care to make sure their carry-ons were loaded and concealed appropriately. Cops didn't go out of their way to catch them so long as they didn't advertise.

The two men left the store a few minutes later, setting to the street to begin looking for the teenager with noticeably white hair-he wouldn't be hard to find at all.

….

Jack sat on top of a metal window sill low to the ground with his acquired goods balanced on his stomach. Some people would get tired of hearing sugar so often, maybe ever to the point they would be begging for vegetables-but not Jack. He would never get tired of living off junk food and pastries and half eaten dinner left-overs from the dump outside the Italian pasta restaurant two blocks over. Things always tasted so much better when you didn't have to pay for them.

Jack was just about to take another bite out of the cake in his hand when he heard two pairs of footsteps enter the alley. _How did I not notice?_

Without moving a muscle, Jack stared at the two men waiting to see if they would do something. Then, after a few minutes of petrified staring, Jack realized he recognized these two men. He also realized why the store had been so empty.

Everyone across the city knew about the rising gang bosses and their growing influence with the people. There were the Russians who occupied most of the northern part of the city. They got their start with a group of Russian immigrant who built up their reputation as thieves and later evolved it into something more _formal_ and _reputable,_ I suppose you could say. Jack had seen them the most since he liked to stick around the northern area simply for its lack of sunlight and cooler summers. Every so often Jack saw one on the street and even without knowing the person, you could guess they were with the Russian mafia based on the sheer amount of facial hair and surprising tolerance for alcohol. All of them had a sort of gruff, ruffian type of look that was instantly recognizable to anyone who knew what to look for.

Then there was the gang run by a woman on the eastern part of the city. It was known for its demographic and cultural diversity within its ranks because the leader, Toothiana, made a point of allowing all sorts of peoples into her good graces. Many of her more trusted members were female, but that didn't at all stop people from fearing them all the same as the Russians. Toothiana had grown up in a wealthy, upper class family, with strong discriminative ways-or so the rumor goes-and out of her irritation she joined a small street gang and began her string of crime while making a point to leave behind a few colored feathers-her calling card.

The Russian and Colored gangs had a known relationship with each other. Apparently the two bosses were old drinking buddies, but another rumor claimed them to more than just 'buddies.'

As of recent, a new gang in the west recently emerged-one made up of Australian immigrants with thick accents and intimidating glares. It was safe to say they easily became friends with the Russian mob and soon their boss too was in a dim bar booth with the two other gang leaders sipping assortments of whiskey and vodka and taking slow puffs from exotic cigars.

They formed a mutually beneficial relationship doing favors out of kindness for one another. Each had the decency to not be too demanding or absurd with requests so it worked out perfectly. All of the diverse groups managed to balance each other out pretty well.

But there was another gang-one of the firsts, even before the Russians took their power. This particular mob manifested in the deep south of the city where few people lived because of how the area's economic state promoted a surplus of crime and is now only occupied by remnants of broken beer bottles and discarded plastic shopping bags. Even more people fled the area when the gang reached its high point out of fear for its violent ways, often promoting more crime than they could scare off. Jack himself had never seen any of them, he thought it was hard enough trying to get by in the west-where he spent most of his time-he didn't want to think about just how much worse it could get.

So Jack still stood rooted to his spot while he watched the men approach him. He thought about booking out of there, but the bulge in their chests underneath the black suits they wore suggested he would be safer not trying that. They got closer with every step until they were just a few feet in front of him. It was at this horrible time that Jack thought he should at least _try_ to get out of there. With lightning-fast reflexes, he jerked from his spot, dropping the left-overs of his meal onto the ground, and made to take off in the opposite direction. But one of the men grabbed the hood of his sweatshirt, choking him with the collar and then throwing him back against the pavement.

Jack heard his back smack against the concrete and had to stifle a scream. A burning pain shot up his spine where he skid along the fine mixture of small rocks and he was certain that he would have a bruise, scrape, or both in a few short hours. The men walked up again, this time the other man landed a swift punch to Jack's stomach and another to the side of his face. So much for keeping the boy's face scratch-free.

Jack couldn't do much to fight back since he was disoriented and in too much pain to even shout for help. Not that anyone would want to help an orphaned street-rat, but it was nice to _think_ someone would.

The men each took one of Jack's arms and threw them around their necks to support the boy while they dragged him to their car parked down the street. To the unsuspecting eye, the laid-back position would only appear they were good friends taking a nice stroll together. And not that two were a couple of mobsters dragging a beaten teenager into the backseat of their car.

….

Aster waited patiently for his men to return. The whole evening he spent thinking about the kid. He didn't understand why, but he thought it might have something to do with the pure whiteness of the boy's hair. Never had Aster seen anything like it. He wasn't going to lie, that kid looked _annoying_ as hell, I mean, who steals from a sophisticated pastry shop when there's a perfectly run down Readi-Mart right next door? But at least the kid was an ambitious bastard, Aster thought he could probably at least get some sort of mild amusement out of the kid.

Just then his men stumbled through the door with a limp form draped across their shoulders. The pair of suits knelt down as close as their aging knees would take them to the floor and dropped Jack the rest of the way.

"Careful mates, we don't want to kill 'im. At least not without a reason, of course," Aster reprimanded them. He approached the white-haired figure lying motionlessly there on the floor. The first thing Aster noticed was the bruise forming on the boy's jaw and how beautifully the purples and blues contrasted with the stark-paleness of his skin. "I thought I told you not to mark up his face?" Aster asked, albeit not so much caring about it anymore now that he saw how the boy pulled the look off _well._

"Sorry boss. He tried to run."

"As expected," Aster laughed while raking his eyes across the boy's figure. Just then, a skittish man ran into Aster's office with a stack of papers.

"Sir! We have a big problem with our finances-I caught an inaccuracy with-" the man started spouting but Aster cut him off.

Aster, now angry for being disturbed, especially with his new toy, yelled, "Phil, I'm not in the mood to pretend I like ya today. If it isn't something _extremely_ important, don't bother me with it. Go ahead and put the files on my desk and I'll get to it when I get to it. Now leave."

The anxious man jumped when Aster barked at him but left the papers on his boss's desk and skittered out the door. When he was gone, Aster groaned and massaged his temples in exasperation while grumbling about a 'bloody groundhog-looking bastard.'

"What should we do with the kid, boss?" one of his men asked.

"Put him in my room," Aster instructed after being roused from his own negative thoughts. "And for the love of God cuff 'im or something so I don't 'ave to worry about him escaping," he added while watching as the men collaboratively picked Jack back up and carried him out of the room.

 _Things should get a lot more interesting around here,_ Aster thought to himself. Of course, he also expected to get a lot of trouble from the brat too, he could tell the kid would be one to cause mischief.

…

 **Feedback would be great because this is my first time posting something like this so your reviews are greatly appreciated. I promise Sandy will come in later, I just wanted to get things going first. Phil is the groundhog-as you might have already guessed; I got the name 'Phil' from the movie** _ **Groundhog Day.**_ **And Peter who was mentioned at the beginning is Peter as in Peter Pan; I just didn't want to make an OC. He won't come up very much though.**

 **Thanks for reading!**

 **~BSotM**

 **(As a side note, I want to thank the guest reviewer who pointed out that I screwed up Bunny being** _ **Australian.**_ **I'm honestly not sure where the whole Irish thing came from and I'm punching myself in the face because of how stupid a mistake that was. That just goes to show how long I've been away from this fandom. So thanks again!** **)**


	2. Chapter 2

Sunlight started to seep through to Jack's fluttering eyes. On instinct, he threw his arm over his face to try and block out the blinding light and tried to snuggle deeper into the warm sheets-

 _Sheets?_

Jack bolted out of his sleeping position but jerked back down, cracking his head back against a hard surface. _What the hell?_ He craned his head to look up at his wrist, and all the air in his lungs rapidly escaped when he recognized the silver metal. _Cuffs._

Panic swelled up inside him at the next few realizations he had: he wasn't outside-where he was used to sleeping-, he was in a room surrounded by expensive things-that were _not_ his-, he was in a _bed,_ and he was incapable of _leaving._ Jack thought about screaming before he remembered he was an orphan and no one gave a rat's ass what happened to him. Then he decided keeping his mouth shut we be a better option. After all, he had _no_ idea where he was at _whatsoever._ Not to mention, _who_ the hell could walk through the room's single door at any moment.

Jack sat back against the hard surface-a headboard- and tried to take slow breaths through his nose. It was a habit he picked up for whenever he was in a tight situation. There was always a way out of everything, right? But as Jack looked around the large room with a single skylight in the ceiling as the room's only source of natural light, he knew there was no way he could reach that and therefore no way he could escape.

Everywhere he looked all he saw were crushed velvet seats and couches, and with the mass amount of blankets draped over every piece of furniture, the boy thought it resembled a nest. He hated to admit it, but it was cozy. After he got his bearings and managed to slow his heart rate back down, he reached up with his uncuffed hand to try and undo the one holding his other wrist to the bedpost. He sat up on his knees and tried to wiggle his cuff around to see where the look was. This proved to be a difficult task because of how small it was, leaving almost know room for movement and putting irritated red lines along his skin whenever he yanked too hard.

Jack started grumbling under his breath about just how stupid this luck was, and how stupid the bedpost was for making it so difficult for him to see just what the _fuck_ he was doing, but mostly at himself for getting himself into his situation in the first place. He felt his skin pull again and get pinched between the metal and he had to grind his teeth to keep from shouting out. Afterwards, he let loose a stream of curse words for good measure, just to keep himself in the right mindset.

After a few hours of struggling with his cuff, he eventually lost it and resulted to frantically beating his hand against the post and then yanking away, hoping he would be able the break the post off and just waltz out. Who the hell cared if he had to walk around with cuffs on for the rest of his life? The utter cleanliness and sophisticated lavishness of the room made his chest hurt and he just wanted to be _out._ The rank smell of garbage mixed with sex that he'd gotten used to smelling would be _welcome_ compared to-what the hell was he even smelling? Jack stopped his thrashing to take a big whiff of his atmosphere, immediately wrinkling his nose in disgust. _Was that...fucking carrots? Mixed with some kinds of herbs…_

In other words, it smelled like a fucking _garden._ A garden of _vegetables_ would be more accurate, but there were so many different smells going on that it was impossible to pinpoint just one. Somewhere off in the distance Jack smelled the yeast of alcohol, in one corner he could have sworn he sees cinnamon, and then in another there was the vague smell of citrus, lemons maybe. The more Jack picked out the smells, the more horrified he became because he tried he sort of _liked_ it. They weren't awful smells-well, some of them were, but not all of them.

Again, Jack grew frustrated. He looked at the post with resentment, trying to examine it from every angle he possible could. Why couldn't he just slip the cuff off the top?

Then he saw why, and his heart sped right back up again when he did.

When Jack leaned over to the left side, he found a hole going all the way through to the other side that the cuff had been slipped through. So he couldn't simply _slip off_ the cuff because the cuff _was a part of_ the bed he sat on. He had a theory, one he didn't want to know if it was true or not, but his curiosity got the best of him again and he leaned over to look at the post on the opposite side. To Jack's complete horror and disgust, he found another just like it in the other post. His handcuff fit so perfectly through it that he couldn't help but wonder if it was designed specifically for this purpose-a purpose he wasn't entirely sure what it was. He had an idea though.

 _Is this for...sex?_ Just the thought made Jack's skin crawl. Not only did he get kidnapped by some bastard, he got kidnapped by some _kinky_ bastard.

All the panic he dispelled came back full force and he resumed beating the living hell out of the bedpost. There was no way he was going to stay here any longer. Jack focused on yanking the metal around his wrist, hearing and feeling the wood in the post starting to bend with resistance. He heard a slight cracking sound, realizing he might just be able to get himself free after all. But right as he felt he was making progress, his heart stopped at the sound of clicking coming from the single door in the back of the room. The brass knob jiggled, clearly someone was trying to get in. Jack panicked even more, now furiously kicking the post that held him to his spot. But he didn't make anymore progress because then he heard the tell tale _click_ of the door being unlocked.

It opened slowly, creating a loud creaking sound as it drifted back on its hinges. A man wearing a pressed gray suit stepped in, his footsteps making almost no sound at all on the thick carpet. Jack never ceased his struggle to rip himself out of his cuffs and he almost didn't even notice the man coming up behind him. Suddenly, Jack heard a faint jingling sound and he stopped moving. He turned his head to see the man smirking behind him and twirling a key ring around his index finger. "You're going to need _these_ to get out of _those_."

Jack growled at him, suddenly more irritated than afraid, "Just who are you and what the hell am I doing here?" The boy turned his whole body around and tried to stand up as much as he could while still cuffed to the bed. It was hard, given his tall height, but he managed to get an extra inch or two on the older man.

Now that he could see better, Jack noticed the man could have only been in his early thirties or late twenties. His gray hair that was slicked back in a business-like fashion with a few strands sticking up in a few places threw him off though. Jack only saw hair like that on older people. The man had piercing green eyes that made Jack uncomfortable the more he looked into them. There was no way to know what the man was thinking about with _that_ look in his eye, it was intimidating and dominating, and Jack found himself looking back down to glare at the bed sheets underneath him instead.

"My name is E. Aster Bunnymund. Ever heard of me?" The man asked in a friendly tone. It only did to make Jack even more weary of his situation because he knew there was no way this man who kidnapped him was going to be _friendly_ , that much Jack was sure of.

Jack shook his head, "Nope, can't say I have. Your name is Bunny? You don't look like one. I think you look more like a kangaroo."

Okay, Jack knew he was probably overstepping his boundaries and testing this stranger's resolution by taunting him like that. But it came out quicker than he could stop it and he had to resist the urge to slap a hand over his mouth to prevent him from damning himself any further. Jack knew he was in for it, when he saw how the man's eyes narrowed at him from under his bushy gray eyebrows, he knew this wasn't going to end well for him. But he couldn't have helped it! He'd always had an impulsive personality. There was just no way around it. And as Jack saw how the man's eyes almost turned visibly darker and his smirk faded away, he couldn't help but get a _really_ bad feeling.

"Kangaroo? Mate, if you know what's good for you," as Aster said this, he hooked an arm around the back of Jack's legs and had the boy flat on his back in one swift motion. "You won't ever say that again."

Jack was debating in his head whether or not he had enough dignity to sass Aster again, but before he could answer he became increasingly aware of the man's hand that was still gripping his leg and his other hand pressing firmly into Jack's chest, keeping him flat against the sheets. "Get _off_ ," Jack growled and tried to wriggle away.

But Aster only seemed to be spurred on and he started climbing over top of Jack, moving his hand to push back on Jack's arms and grinding his knee into Jack's legs to keep him from kicking him by accident-or on purpose. "I don't think I will. Why don't you show me that feisty attitude of yours again," Aster whispered into the boy's ear.

Then Jack flipped, "No! Get the hell off of me you old bastard!" Jack got his leg out from under Aster's knee and drove it into the man's chest. "You keep your filthy hands _off!"_

Aster laughed watching the boy struggle underneath him. He was far stronger than Jack, but he still let the kid kick and try to hit him to be a good sport. Though he had to admit, the kid had spunk. The gang boss thought about how useful Jack would be to his team. It's not like there was anybody else looking at for the kid, nobody would miss him if he suddenly disappeared from the streets. In fact, Aster _knew_ no one would miss him; Aster could keep Jack here with him and see that angelically-mischievous face every day. Hell, Jack should _want_ to stay with him-it was better than sleeping outside, wasn't it?

The boss was still thinking when he all of sudden caught a pale fist flying towards him. He caught it a few centimeters in front of his face and grasped the hand tight. " _That_ was bold of you," Aster commended while glaring into the kid's blue eyes. Aster held the fist tightly, slipping his own fingers in to touch the boy's palm, "You're freezing!"

"I have bad circulation, _fucker!"_ Jack shouted and tried to pull his hand away. However, Aster kept a firm hold in it and pushed it into a second cuff connected on the opposite bedpost, leaving Jack completely without the use of his arms. Jack tried to bite Aster-a low move, but he was desperate-and he thrashed around to keep the older man from touching him. The boy was expecting the boss to start trying to take his clothes off but instead he just sat back and laughed at the white haired kid.

"You know, you would be an _excellent_ addition to my gang here. I know I would _love_ the chance to see that pretty face of yours everyday. Maybe in this very spot," Aster ran a hand down the side of Jack's face, lowering his eyes to the bed they both sat on as he did so. Then Aster had to pull his hand away with the swiftness of a rabbit before Jack had a chance to bite off one of his fingers. "Ha! Ya almost got me that time."

Jack didn't stop glaring at the man because he knew if he didn't he would reveal how scared and nervous he actually was. He wasn't naive at all-growing up on the streets had made quick work of whatever naivety he had and reduced it to nothing. The boy was well aware of the risks of being in his predicament. But he wasn't sure how to deal with it. Then he registered what Aster had asked; did he really ask Jack to join him? That would mean getting off the streets, but Aster also mentioned having him in bed-and _that_ was _not_ something Jack was going to do. There was no way he was going to let this shit-fuck turn him into his own personal whore. "I wouldn't stay here ever! Especially here with a creepy old shit like you!"

Well, that was about all the patience Aster had to deal with the adolescent. He threw his hand around Jack's neck and shoved him against the headboard. Jack yelped at the sudden force and let himself be pushed down.

"Listen _kid,_ you would be wise not to tempt me. I've been patient, but it tends to go _very_ quickly," Aster said darkly while letting his eyes rake over the boy's body. He eyed the way Jack's sweatshirt had lifted partially in the scuffle and now left a pale strip of his skin exposed to the air. Aster could see the outlines of his hip bones and the way his stomach muscles shivered in apprehensive fear. The boss couldn't help himself at that point, he grabbed both of Jack's legs and pulled the boy out from his protective crouch against the headboard he had been thrown against. Jack yelped again because now he was partially laying on his back with both of his arms cuffed back on the posts and he had never felt so _vulnerable_ in his life. As much as he tried, he couldn't hide the fear beginning to swim in his blue eyes as Aster leaned over him and played with the button on Jack's pants. "I was going to wait, but you make it so _hard_. Anyway, I should really use this opportunity to teach you a lesson about not showing respect for those above you."

Then Aster began to unzip the front of Jack's pants while the boy fought hard against the taller and stronger man to get away. Jack screamed as loud as he could for Aster to get the hell off of him, hoping someone would hear and come investigating. But no matter how hard Jack screamed, he didn't hear a thing outside the room, all of the hallways were empty. By now Aster was trying to tug down the pants but was having a little difficulty due to how viciously the kid was kicking him. All of a sudden, to Jack's relief and Aster's annoyance, another man walked in and stopped Aster in his struggle.

"PHIL! What did I fucking tell you about interrupting me?!" Aster whipped around and shouted at the man who currently was having hard time standing and trembling in fear at the same time.

"I-I'm sorry, sir, I didn't mean to interrupt you, but you have a call from Mr. North on the line," the hoggish looking man stuttered out.

Aster heaved a sigh before quickly leaning down and giving Jack a chaste kiss on the cheek, "We'll finish up later," he promised and stood up from the bed. He gave Jack one last threatening look and then kicked the smaller man outside, exiting right after.

Jack let his head fall back against the bed and let a huge breath out of his lungs. He let himself sink into those sheets and breathed slowly out his nose. His heart still pounded in his chest, so Jack decided to try and slow that back down before he had a heart attack-which given his situation, would have been a welcomed alternative. Jack closed his eyes and tried to remember everything that happened in the past day: he fell off of a ladder while playing a game, robbed a bakery and ate a shitton of cake, got his ass handed to him by a couple of stiff FBI looking men, and then almost got _raped_ by a stranger with the last name _'Bunnymund.' Jesus Christ, could this day get any worse?_ Then Jack dispelled that thought because he still couldn't think of a single way to break himself out and there were _plenty_ of things that could go wrong, as promised by Aster. Fatigue weighed on the boy and even though he felt so damn tired, he couldn't bring himself to close his eyes and sleep. Instead, he sat up against the headboard with his eyes wide open.

….

Aster stalked down the hall at a vigorous pace with his frazzled attendant following close behind. If the shorter man was smart, he wouldn't still be following the visibly pissed off boss with the ability to slit someone's throat before the person had time to blink. The boss was a little salty over having been interrupted while he was playing with his new toy.

When they arrived at the door to Aster's second office (one he had to establish so people wouldn't always go barging in on him whenever they needed something-evidently it still wasn't clicking with some people), Aster slammed the door behind him in Phil's face so the attendant couldn't follow him in; he could hear Phil grumbling about it and then walking away. The boss strode over to his phone sitting on his desk. "This is Aster."

"Bunny! Old friend! It is good to hear your voice!" a loud Russian accent bellowed at him and the Aussie had to take his ear off the speaker to prevent himself from going deaf.

"North, it is always a pleasure. What can I do for you?" Aster spoke in a friendly tone. It was always good to hear from the jolly man. For a boss, he was uncharacteristically good-natured. That must have been what Aster liked so much about him.

"I heard you got a new plaything! Treating it well?" North asked.

Aster rolled his eyes; North was always calling to make sure he wasn't beating some poor kid to death. "Of course I am, North. I haven't gotten much time with him to do anything at all. Besides, his face is too good-looking for me to want to mess up. I'd like to keep this one," Aster assured him. "Anyway, I know that isn't the real reason you're calling."

"Ah! That is good to hear! You're right though, I am not calling because of that," then the man's tone went serious. "It's Pitch. His men have been at it again."

"Was it one of mine?"

"No, Tooth's."

There was an unspoken rule amongst all the bosses running a town that you didn't mess with eachother's men. Most of the time, the bosses didn't get involved in each other's business and that's the way it stayed. Suburban wars just got too complicated and the current power holders all got on well enough to avoid any serious conflict. Pitch, on the other hand, had beef with every gang in the area. And he didn't hesitate to show it.

It was common now for one of the bosses to come across one of their own strung up the side of a building in a slick of blood and ripping skin-and they didn't take it lightly. First it was one of North's girls-one he saw as his own daughter-who came limping back to their base with her hands missing. Then a little later one of North's most trusted hit men had his brains mysteriously blown out with his own gun. The girl didn't make it, and the hit men obviously didn't make it either. For awhile, North thought the man just shot himself, but that was ridiculous because North himself saw how skilled the man was with a gun and he would never make a rookie mistake like that. Now, Tooth was having trouble of her own: dismembered followers showing up at her door half dead, finding bags of limbs right on her front porch. Aster himself had gotten a few letters containing the hands of his men. It was nasty stuff, and none of the bosses liked it. Not one bit.

North called an emergency meeting to come up with a plan of how to deal with the matter. Tooth was still broken up about the death of her friends, she was a very caring person and liked to look after her followers like her own children. She and North both lost people close to them and were prepared to eradicate the problem by any means necessary.

"Let's start kidnapping and torturing Pitch's nightmarish men. I have a few antique devices from medieval times in my parlor that would be perfect to use," Tooth suggested. Tears still stained the sides of her face and red puffiness surrounded her bright and colorful eyes.

"That won't work, Pitch doesn't care for his underlyings like we do. Our best chance is to go straight for him," North rationed.

"Or, we could try and get his men to turn against him. Since we know they don't harbor the best of feelings toward him," Aster pointed out and the other two exchanged looks of agreement.

"That might be our best chance," Tooth agreed and motioned one of her men over. She whispered something in his ear and the man nodded before walking off. "I'm going to have my boys track some of them down."

The other bosses nodded and stood up from their spots in the red booth they sat in. A dim light dangled overhead, reflecting into all of their glasses of alcohol and bouncing off the polished wooden table. Aster turned away first, walking off through the poorly-lit diner and emerging out into the cool air. The sun had long gone down and every street lamp in town was emanating a blinding light. A car was parked just outside the building and Aster took his time climbing into the back seat and ordering his driver back to his base of operations.

Aster checked the time on his wristwatch when he returned home, it was almost midnight. He doubted the boy would still be awake but he decided to check in on him anyway. The man was surprised, however, to find the boy wide awake.

Aster shut the door behind him, "You're still awake?"

"Of fucking course I am. You think I'm going to sleep knowing a psychopath could walk through the door any minute?" Jack bit out.

The bos was too tired to argue with the boy, so instead he climbed into the bed, not missing how Jack froze and started trying squirm away. Jack was expecting the man to pick up where he left off, but shocked him when the boss started taking the cuffs out of the bedposts. He cuffed Jack's wrists together instead. So, he was still in cuffs, but at least his arms weren't stuck in a reaching position. His arms were beginning to get sore.

Aster slipped off his suit jacket and pants, leaving him in an undershirt in his boxers and slipped under the cover. "Do ya want to strip too?"

" _No,"_ Jack growled.

"Alright," he shrugged and settled in bed next to the boy. Jack was in handcuffs, but Aster didn't want to underestimate the kid. He was sly and might try to escape while Aster was sleeping. So the boss took the other pair of cuffs and slipped another on Jack's wrist and the other end on his own. _Try getting out of that one, show pony._

Jack groaned when he felt more metal against his skin and stiffened when he realized he could feel Aster breathing on the back of his neck. It was weird and incredibly awkward, but the Aussie didn't seem bothered by it at all. In a few short minutes, the older man was breathing steadily and snoring quietly. Jack rolled his eyes but still didn't feel like he could sleep. He kept cringing at the warm air ruffling his hair on the back of his head and the hand that somehow wound its way around Jack's midsection.

 _It's going to be a long night._


	3. Chapter 3

Morning sunlight came streaming in through the ceiling skylight, casting dim shadows on one half of the room and blaring light on the other. Jack first felt it on his bare toes, a stark contrast from the cold air nipping on them as he walked the streets. It was an uncomfortable feeling, mostly because it was different. He wriggled his toes and realized not only were they warm, but they were also lying on a soft surface with fabrics draped over them. With his eyes still shut tight, he cringed and wrinkled his nose. It wasn't an unpleasant feeling, but it was definitely too comfortable for his taste.

Jack tried to sit up, but then he remembered he wasn't alone. Behind him, still pressed against his back, was the older man breathing softly against his neck. Now that Jack was fully awake, the feeling of his breath made the hairs on his neck stand on end and he tried to squirm as far away from Aster as he could. The handcuffs weren't exactly making that any easier and Jack worried their rattling would wake up his bed partner.

And he did _not_ want that.

The boy scanned his surroundings again like he'd done on repeat since he arrived. Still, there were no window except for the skylight above him. Maybe he could get out the door? But then that left him with the cuffs to deal with.

Jack experimentally twisted his wrist against the warming metal. There was the slightest space between his arm and the cuff that gave him a little hope. Even though it wasn't a _large_ space, it was still a space. With little confidence, Jack kept on twisting his wrist as quietly as he could manage. The friction he was creating made faint red marks appear on his skin, but he expected as much from all the strain he was feeling from beating his hands against the headboard the day before.

Just then, Aster made a sound in his sleep. Jack couldn't make out what the man said but he immediately halted his movements and waited in panic for the gang boss to say something else.

The gray haired man simply rolled over onto his back and slung an arm over his eyes. Jack snickered at Aster's light snoring. It really was a shame he didn't plan on staying with the boss any longer; Jack could have had a lot of fun teasing Aster about how he sounds like a sixty-year-old when he sleeps.

Jack resumed twisting his wrist around the metal. If he could just get his hand to slip out-

An idea struck him. A disgusting idea, but an idea nonetheless. With a regretful groan, Jack leaned down to the cuff-as he couldn't lift it without rattling them-and spat on his wrist.

 _This is so gross,_ he cringed to himself as he felt the warm liquid drip around his skin. _Desperate times, I guess._ Now that it coated his raw skin, he could slide the metal around easier and was _incredibly_ relieved to see his idea actually working. How often did things go his way? Never. So he sure as hell wasn't going to take this godsend for granted. Jack pulled hard on the cuff and tried to curl his hand up as small as he could.

"Yes!" He said out loud when his hand was pulled free. Then after he realized what he did he slapped a hand over his mouth, silently screaming at himself for being so damn _stupid._ Aster moved again.

The hand over Jack's mouth pressed harder until his fingernails dug into his cheeks. Aster only rolled over again until he was resting with his back to the teenager. _Fucking hell,_ was Jack's only thought as he let his shoulders sag in relief. Without taking his eyes off the sleeping figure, Jack inched his way off the bed and felt a swell of confidence when his toe touched the hardwood floor. The white-haired boy didn't waste any time tip-toeing his way to the door.

Locked.

 _Fuck me,_ he shouted over and over in his head. It's not like he could hop back in the bed and think up a new strategy! Aster would be able to obviously tell Jack tried to escape, the evidence was cuffed to the boss's wrist covered in spittle. _Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, FUCK!_ Jack gripped at his white locks, feeling them tangle between his fingers and he could just vaguely remember tugging at his hair the same way when he was a kid. Sometimes sleeping outside got so ice cold that the burning pain in his head was a relief. He supposed he did feel a little comforted by the gesture and he wondered: did he really want to go back to that? Scratching himself raw and bleeding himself dry just to try to feel what it was to be warm? He loved the cold-especially when it snowed and he could have snowball fights with the other orphans and bury himself underneath the white fluff, listening to it crunch under his back and watching it turn the place he lived in to a white utopia. But he always hated it when it got dark and cars sloshed brown muck from the day over the white ground. On top of that, he was always reminded of just how _alone_ he was. He didn't sleep with the other homeless people, it just wasn't something you did-groups made easy targets. _Damn it,_ Jack thought. Did Jack really want to go back to that?

Yes.

Bottom line, he didn't want to spend the rest of whatever life he had left chained to a bed waiting to get violated. He would rather die outside with his back leaning against a graffitied brick wall than have _that_ man touch him _anywhere._

Jack went for the doorknob again, this time jiggling it quietly to hear all the pins inside. It was a pretty standard door knob, but he didn't have anything to pick it with. Jack huffed in frustration and glanced around the room. Mid-morning sunlight flowed into the room, settling dangerously over Aster's resting form. Of course Jack knew how much he eas pushing his luck, but he went to the desk full of draws and checked them anyway.

A small gold key sat at the bottom of a few papers and envelopes in the top right draw. Jack felt the air leave him when he saw its lustrous shape pressed into the green velvet bottom. _Yes!_ He remembered to say in his head. Jack pressed the key into the palm of his hand and felt relief flood over him when he squeezed it and felt its teeth dig into his hand. It was likely that he would have red indents, but he didn't care.

He eagerly thrust the key into the doorknob and twisted it. The key fit so perfectly, gliding in and opening the door quickly. Jack glanced again over at the older man fast asleep in the large bed before ducking out of the room.

Once he was in the spacious hallway, he picked a direction and took it, hoping he would end up at a door that would lead him outside. Dim lights barely lit the halls, and there weren't any windows either. Jack tripped a few times over his own feet trying to avoid the multiple armed guards patrolling around, but he was completely okay with it. A few times, he caught sight of some brighter light and ran towards it wholeheartedly hoping that it would be the way out. Over and over Jack thanked whatever deity out there that he hadn't been seen by anyone. He wasn't sure what he would tell them if he was-hell, he wasn't even sure many people knew he was here! Jack would rather not bet on that one though.

The orphaned boy couldn't hear anyone chasing after him yet, so he took that as a good sign and continued looking for a way out. The entire place was a stone labyrinth of heavy metal doors and lights hanging from insecure cords above him. Jack's breath began to fall short and his stride hesitated while he tried opening every door he came across. Gradually all of his confidence and hope diminished.

But he had to get out. He had to! So Jack picked up his pace again and tried another door. To his surprise, the knob turned easily and he thrust open the unlocked door. Of course the idea that he might just be leading himself further into the warehouse-esque building did occur to him, but there wasn't much he could do about it.

Jack froze when he heard an angry voice shouting behind him, unmistakably belonging to Aster. His heart pounded against his rib cage hard enough to give the illusion of a heart attack -and that might have actually been it. Jack couldn't help looking over his shoulder to check if the man was getting any closer. The sounds of the gang boss's infuriated yells were as clear to his ears as if the man were standing right next to him.

 _Well that's just fucking fantastic,_ Jack snarled dryly in his head. _I don't think my situation could get any worse._

Immediately he regretted saying that because he knew from experience how prone he was to karma and jinxing himself. His paranoid self kept insisting he should check every three seconds to make sure nobody was behind him. But with his focus concentrated over his shoulder he forgot to look where he was headed and felt himself colliding with something hard.

"Ah!" Jack yelled, landing roughly on the cold floor. Only then did he see who he ran into and he wasn't sure if he should be relieved or not. "Who the _fuck_ are you?"

The stout man stared at him. "Does Boss know his plaything is wandering on his own?"

 _Plaything?_ "I am _nobody's_ plaything. You can tell your boss to go fuck himself!" Jack shouted, too angry to bother with keeping his volume down. At this point he was certain someone else heard. The idea of his escape was becoming even more chimerical by the second. _What the hell do I do now?_

The stout man with the rodent-like features made a grab for him, but Jack twisted away from his outreaching hand and sent one of his own long legs hurling into the man's chest. The man doubled over, gasping for breath and choking on the air. Jack didn't wait to see if the short man stayed down and took off down the hall. _Good, this is good,_ Jack kept repeating in his head.

A voice shouted from somewhere behind him. "Can I rely on you for _anything,_ Phil!?"

Of course Jack recognized the voice, but he didn't dare look back behind him. He kept his eyes focused on the expanding hallway ahead of him, staring intently for any hint of natural light, and listened to the thumping of his bare feet against the concrete. _I'm not going to stay here. I'm going to go home._

Light flooded from somewhere at the end of the hall. It wasn't the same flickering artificial light that Jack had gotten so used to seeing so he sped up. He ran faster and barely registered how his breathing had become ragged and a heavy sheen of sweat had built up along his forehead. _Yes!_

He actually saw it. A faint glimpse of the outdoors from an open glass window. Relief flooded through him early the sight of it and when he felt the cool breeze of wintery air he almost cried it felt so good. Fear wasn't something he was used to feeling, so tears weren't something g he felt a lot either. But he just felt so damn _relieved_ that he could go home to his alley that he embraced the cold wrapping itself around his watering eyes and making him squint.

The window was so _close._ It would be easy to just jump right through it and out into the streets. But there was something blocking his way.

Two men stood like stone golems in front of Jack's only escape route. The white haired boy skidded to a stop, feeling the rough floor tear at his skin. No matter how much adrenaline he had, he didn't have a chance of getting around them. Jack slowly began to back away, he could find another route, right?

Then more footsteps approached behind him and he whirled around. Aster stood in his boxers with the handcuff hanging off his wrist. The man didn't look at all happy and his face was contorted into a grim scowl. Jack gulped and found it hard to move. His feet were frozen to the floor and his breath caught in his throat. He looked all around him but there was nowhere for him to run. Aster took a step toward him and Jack took a step back, sending him right into the two bulky lackeys behind him. One grabbed him under the arms and pushed him to the floor. Jack felt the cold concrete scratch the side of his face with the force of it. He felt a certain warmth along the side of his face that smeared when the second man punch him. He hit him again after that, and a few more times until Jack had trouble keeping his eyes open. But he couldn't just close them. He didn't want to wake up in some unfamiliar place. No, he wanted to see exactly what was happening to him.

Aster told the men to stop and they did. They stepped back to let Aster closer to Jack's limp form. "You really are a troublemaker, aren't you?" He leaned in close, the cinnamon smell of his cigar fresh over his teeth. Then Jack felt himself being lifted. Two hands found their way under his knees and he could feel a bare chest under his cheek. "It really does pain me to do this, but I can't let some kid make a fool of me. What kind of message would that send to my subordinates?"

Jack tried to move, but a sharp pain in his ribs kept him from still. He wanted to ask what Aster was planning, but he couldn't find the words. He let Aster take him back down the hall, too depressed and hopeless to do anything about it. Sure his spontaneous plan was a long shot, but he still had faith it would be worked. Now he didn't know what he could do.

As expected, Aster took Jack back to his bedroom. This time, however, he didn't put the handcuffs on. _Why isn't he..?_

Aster tossed him on the bed. Jack lied down and watched the man move about the room. It was difficult watching him move about the room pulling open drawers and slamming them shut again. Black spots danced across Jack's vision trying to keep up with him. His eyes closed for a few seconds before he actually realized he shut them. He snapped them back open and tried to keep his focus. Then Aster was standing over him.

"I don't think using _just_ the handcuffs is going to work," Aster told him. Jack glared up at the man, his eyes shifting between Aster's face and the object he held in his hands. Once again, it was made out of metal, but much more _polished_ and expensive looking. When Aster stood at the foot of the bed, glowering down at him, Jack felt an uneasy feeling arise and tried to crawl further onto the bed. His injuries weren't exactly _helping_ and Aster quickly caught on. "Not so fast sweetheart," he hissed and grabbed Jack's leg with his hand. At first Jack tried to pull his leg back, but stopped when Aster's nail started to dig into his exposed pale skin.

Jack hissed and grit his teeth. " _Stop_ it," he squeaked. Talking was becoming even more difficult with every pained second. Aster didn't stop and Jack swore he had to be bleeding. However, the white-haired boy's head was too dizzy to tell.

"The sooner you realize who's in control, the better," Aster kept his grip around Jack's leg.

"Not likely," was the strained reply Jack gave him. The gang boss growled, his upper lip curling in a hate-filled snarl. _Clearly he has issues with superiority,_ Jack thought to himself. The orphan watched the older man's face go from furious to some indecipherable emotion-almost...content? Whatever it was, it rattled Jack's mind to no end. He tried to push himself into the mattress, not really wanting to show he was actually scared, but also not wanting to get hurt.

Aster suddenly sunk his nails all the way through his skin and yanked the boy down closer to him. Jack screamed but Aster paid no attention and leaned in as close as he could to Jack's ear, "We'll see about that." Then Jack barely had time to blink before the man's fast came colliding toward the bridge of his slender nose and sparks danced across his vision like black, ashen snowflakes. Aster stood over him, watching the younger boy drift in and out of consciousness until that feisty frame stilled, and Jack's small chest rose and fell steadily with sleep-induced breathing.

Aster watched the boy sleep for a few seconds that soon turned into a few minutes. _How can someone so intolerably annoying look so damn peaceful?_ Aster wondered to himself. He quirked an eyebrow at the way Jack curled in on himself-a habit, Aster guessed, he got from sleeping outside. The boy looked so young and innocent, even though the boss new he had to be at least sixteen years old. It almost made him think twice about what he was going to do. _But if I don't, he's just going to run off again, and he will set a bad example for the rest of my followers. E. Aster Bunnymund doesn't go easy on anyone._

Aster looked down at the sleeping form and then at the object in his hands. With a regretful sigh, he slipped the silver collar over Jack's wintry neck and hooked its chain to the bed. He redid all the handcuffs Jack managed to get off and laid down next to Jack on the soft comforter. _You will respect me, no matter what._ And Aster unbuttoned Jack's pants.

…

 **I'm so sorry for the wait! I just got anally raped by my exams. Quick question for the next chapter: should I describe** _ **everything that happens**_ **(if you know what I'm saying), or just do the** _ **before and after?**_

 **Thanks for reading!**

 **~BSotM**


	4. Chapter 4

Aster took his time undoing the brass button on Jack's pants, unzipping the brown material and sliding them down his pale legs. It didn't escape him how delicate the boy looked underneath him or the sound breaths whooshing from the boy's soft lips. Anyone could see how prepossessing the white haired orphan was-and that was the other thing. Never had Aster seen such pure hair. Aster hated the snow so reminiscent of Jack's spiky tufts because he could never get passed the freezing touch, but he couldn't bring himself to think any less of Jack. Jack-even though he looked cold with his icy glares and bitter remarks-was actually quite warm when Aster raked his hands down Jack's front. Aster ran a hand through that mop of hair, letting his fingers catch on every knot and then trailed his fingertips down the vast expanse of skin. Oh, how he wanted to see more of it! Aster tore off Jack's pants with one last tug and ripped the blue hoodie keeping him from feeling every inch of Jack's skin.

 _Wait a second_ , Aster reprimanded himself. The boy was attractive, but he didn't love him or anything like that. Such emotions were above him. He was a mob boss with a substantial and sometimes very stressful amount of work to do. He earned a plaything every now and then. That's all Jack was.

When there were no irritating clothes to impede him he circled his arms around that lithe waist and brought Jack as close to him as he could. Aster wanted to take his time with this; in the time Jack had been held here, never once did Aster get to observe him in such a serene state. There was no hollering or cursing or flailing limbs trying to kick him away. It was a dangerous feeling, but Aster had the ability to anything he could have ever wanted to do. Jack likely would be out for awhile. And that gave him a greedy amount of liberty.

Aster ran his tongue across Jack's chest and held the boy tighter. He liked that his arms wrapped completely around the smaller form, Aster could squeeze the life out of him if he wanted, Jack was a lot slimmer compared to him. The boss wasn't known for being intimate with his play things but he couldn't help the overwhelming need to taste the boy's parted lips and confirm they felt as soft as they looked. He nibbled along the line of Jack's ear and nipped at the skin around his neck and nape. His soft touches grew more aggressive the more heated Aster felt and soon his innocent nibbling turned into rough bites that made his jaw sore. Through all of it, Jack only flinched and groaned in his sleep.

And then Aster was done playing. He leaned back on his calves and undid the buckle of his belt, sliding the strap of leather off and tossing it to the floor. Originally he was just going to undo his pants, but why not go all out? He discarded all his clothing to the side of the bed without checking to see where the crumpled heap landed. The tip of his cock twitched in excitement as he pulled Jack's legs apart enough for him to settle between them. The familiarity of the whole scene was oddly comforting; it had been awhile since Aster had ravished someone like this. But he couldn't deny it was a little different. His past partners were beautiful, but they were never this striking. Everytime he so much as scraped the boy's flesh Jack whined and writhed under him. They were the most angelic sounds the crime boss had ever heard; he wanted to hear more.

Aster didn't waste any time guiding himself into Jack's heat, but had a hard time getting fully sheathed. _Damn he's a lot tighter than expected,_ Aster thought to himself. _What kind of orphan didn't put out for money? Apparently this one,_ Aster groaned silently and pulled out, grimacing at the cold air brushing his prick. This was inconvenient, but if he didn't do this there would be a mess to clean up. Aster hastily pushed two fingers past the ring of muscle between Jack's legs and pumped them in and out a few times. Jack whimpered again and furrowed his eyebrows. Aster saw the boy's jaw clench, probably in discomfort, but Aster made no attempt to stop. He added in a third finger and listened to the strangled cry that came from Jack's throat. As much as Aster loved hearing all the different sounds, he really wanted to skip to the main event. He scissored Jack's opening a few times and removed his fingers. At the last second he decided to spit in his hand to use it as a lubricant. It wasn't much, but it seemed to be doing the job, as did the minor prep because Aster found it much easier to push himself inside.

He groaned at how hot Jack was on the inside and how tight his walls felt around his cock. It felt like a goddamn vice grip. And it felt pretty damn good. Jack of course mewled in unconscious protest but showed no signs of waking up. Aster took that as his cue to move and started a fast pace, using his hands to pull Jack's hips closer to meet his thitalic Aster thought when his breath began to fall short. Sweat built across his brow and dropped onto the jolting form under him. Jesus, when was the last time he had a fuck this good? He wondered. There was no way he was ever letting Jack get away from him. Not after this. The snide remarks and foul mouth he could learn to put up with.

...

It was black outside when Jack woke up. He tried to sit up but was stopped when a sharp pain in his back forced him back down. Sleep was unachievable for him, especially withe the gang bass still wrapped around him. Aster's snoring filled the otherwise silent bedroom. Jack glanced down at his body and started to count the fading purple bruises along his legs, ribs, and chest. It was a sick way to occupy one's self but he didn't have anything better to do.

He examined the ugly looking splotches all over himself and his lip curled at every one of them. If he could -or even had the will to-look at his arms and collarbone he might have found similar marks. How long had it lasted? Jack wasn't sure, hell he didn't want to be sure. He didn't want to know. He knew what he felt. And he didn't feel anything good. The marks on him varied from small bruises of a reddish brown and larger bruises of a deep purple to bright red bite marks. In short, everything hurt. Especially that space between his legs still dripping cum he was trying so desperately not to pay attention to-but it became increasingly difficult the more he remembered.

 _Of all the awakenings Jack had had in his time on the streets, never had he awoken bare in a slippery silk bed with one of the most feared men in the town hovering over him. Jack had never felt anything like this either. There was something foreign inside him and it pushed uncomfortably against his insides. The second he realized what was happening he tried to scream but his voice caught in his throat and only a strangled cry escaped._

 _"Don't. Struggle," The mob boss ground out between quick thrusts. Aster's fierce green eyes carried the same powerful domineering glare they held when Jack first saw them. The difference now was the sheer hunger emanating from them in waves._

 _"S-stop it!" Jack croaked but the dark green glower silenced him. He knew for a fact with all of his being that he had no chance of getting himself out of this one. His head hurt, his ribs creaked from within his chest when Aster slammed into him again, a little more forceful than before. Moving was undoubtedly out of the question-especially with the older man pounding him into the mattress. The other thing impairing his mobility were the rough calloused hands gripping his hips and forcing Jack's whole body against his own. The sheer closeness and intimacy of it only did to make Jack feel sick. Damn it, he hated it. He hated feeling so confined and incapacitated. When was the last time he felt so helpless? "Please. Let go." God, stop it please. Stop. Stop. Stop!_

 _Aster only glanced up, his eyes conveying the denial to Jack's requests and the thrusting slowed down. Jack thought the man was done, maybe it was over and that's why Aster was slowing down. But just then there was a sharp pain in his chest and he whipped his head toward the area as fast as his blossoming migraine-or possibly concussion-would let him. Aster held his gaze again, his threatening glare against Jack's petrified stare, and bit down again on Jack's chest. Jack screamed, now knowing full well what the pain was he was feeling and he tried harder to pry the man's body away from his. Jack wasn't sure which was worse; everything was just one goddamn nightmare._

 _"You get the hell away from me!" He shouted above his cries, but his throat was raw from screaming and he couldn't say anything more than that. He tried to twist his shoulders away-since he had no chance of ripping his hands out of the handcuffs-but Aster took his hands away from Jack's midsection and pinned the boy's shoulders against the mattress, halting his struggling altogether._

 _But Jack couldn't take the feeling anymore and he tried to forcefully push Aster out of him by bringing his knees up and using them to keep Aster at a distance. It did work, Aster pulled out and Jack let out a whimper of relief. However, Aster wasn't finished and he merely shrugged. The boss gripped the back of one of Jack's knees and slung the leg over his shoulder. Jack's eyes widened at how easily Aster held the offending limb. The short chains on his ankles kept Jack from lifting his leg up any higher; he felt even more exposed than before and he couldn't get his leg back down. Aster held it there against his neck with inhuman amounts of strength._

 _"Don't fight me mate," Aster growled and leaned in toward Jack's ear. Jack shivered at the hot breath being so close to him. "You know you've lost," Aster whispered to the younger male. "You know you had this coming."_

 _Jack tried again to evade the voice that somehow followed him wherever he went. It was like it was already implanted in his mind, following him to the deepest recesses of his conscience. Aster was right, he knew this might happen, and he tried to run anyway._

 _Aster snapped his hips forward, burying himself completely and Jack screamed again. The burning pain came back full force and Jack was past trying to hold back any tears. After every bout of thrusting Aster would bite down on his skin hard enough to draw blood and leave trails of tooth marks down his front, and then started licking at them affectionately was messing with Jack's head. Jack screamed every time he felt that strong jaw split his skin but found himself whimpering with every soft lap at his blood. It was more of that stomach churning, false affection-revolting affection-to think Jack might actually be enjoying the gentleness, but then Aster would sink his teeth into him again and all that pleasure vanished in an instant. He could only squeeze his eyes shut and tug at the cuffs on his wrists until it was all over._

 _..._

"Talk to me."

"I don't want to," Jack stayed rolled over, facing away from the bed's other occupant.

Aster snaked an arm around Jack's waist, "don't mope. You know I didn't have a-"

"A choice?! Is that what you were going to say?!" Jack whirled around. "You could have chosen not to be a goddamn _rapist_!" Jack shouted but his facade fell through in an instant, the emotional toll from the last few days finally syncing with today's events. At first he thought he could grasp his situation and get out of it like he always did. But now...he wasn't sure what he was supposed to do.

Aster looked taken aback by the younger's outburst. None of his toys yelled at him. Cried, yes, but they never raised their voices. They knew better than that. For a brief second Aster thought he needed to have the boy again. Maybe letting him sleep for most of it was counter productive? But then Aster saw the shaking boy with his back to him and was once again reminded how small the kid was. "I'm sorry."

Jack growled and almost rolled over to glare at the gangster, almost, "what the hell is that supposed to mean? You think you can get away with whatever you want with a half-assed apology? You think I'm just going to forgive you, and let you screw with me again?!"

"That would be nice."

This time Jack did roll over. He rolled over and slammed his fist into the man's sternum. Aster's breath whooshed out of him but to Jack's surprise, he started laughing. This fucking bastard has the nerve to laugh?! Jack screamed internally. "What the fuck are you laughing at?!"

"Jack, I'm not a bad person-or, maybe I am. But I'm a decent man. Maybe not the most morally driven or most intelligent-definitely not the most innocent-, but I do genuinely feel bad about hurting you," Aster stopped laughing during his mini-speech. "I'm laughing because of that. I don't recall having ever felt bad or guilty about anything in my life."

Jack stared at Aster incredulously as the man wiped a year from his eye and another boisterous round of laughter ensued. He scoffed, "that doesn't surprise me at all. You're horrible." Jack rolled back over and moved as far to the edge of the bed as the chains would let him.

"I am horrible," Aster repeated and scorched closer to Jack. He threw an arm over the boy's waist and drew him in until he was pressed against his chest. "But for some reason it bothers me hearing it come from you. I can't promise never to touch you again. In fact, it may happen again soon. But promise that you won't make me feel guilty about it?"

Jack scoffed again in his raw, teary voice, "how about you promise never to touch me again and I'll promise not to make you feel guilty about it?"

Aster laughed, "that's a nice try, kid. Don't pout, it just makes you look even more irresistible." Then Aster buried his face in Jack's neck and inhaled his scent. He promptly forced Jack to turn toward him and the boy didn't struggle. Jack was too tired and too sore to do anything. Tears soaked his face and new ones began to silently spill out. Aster kissed them away in that disgustingly loving way as they fell. But Jack didn't have the strength to push him off. He lay there and squeezed his eyes shut as the older man licked over his bruises and hickeys and pressed his lips against every scratch. Aster shushed him as if he were trying to console a small child-smaller than Jack was.

At some point in the gentle treatment, Jack must have fallen asleep momentarily because the next thing he saw was the blackness of the skylight and the dim ambiance of the room. He felt dirty and he couldn't do anything about it. He was stuck to that bed in those chains. This all happened because he wasn't smart enough to find a way out. He would find a way out eventually. There was no way he was staying here waiting to get raped.

For the rest of the night, Jack occupied his mind with figuring out another escape plan. Now that he got a good look at the compound he was being held in, he had a better understanding of the layout and main exit points. _Or lack thereof_ , he added in his head. It would be a thousand times harder but he was determined to do it.

Then an idea struck him. Aster only had him locked up like this because he knew Jack would try to run off. _All I have to do is get him to trust me,_ Jack reasoned. _I suppose I can play submissive for awhile._

 **...**

 **Thank you to all my reviewers and those who faved and followed, it means so much! I'm so sorry I couldn't reply to all of them but I love reading them and they remind me I have chapters to write. Here are some replies:**

 **Aekidna: I'll agree with you there! I'm working on getting out of my comfort zone with my writing so thank you for reading, I really appreciate it.**

 **Guest: Thank you! You probably noticed I went with your idea.**

 **WinterCrystal1009: I'm glad you like it! There's going to be a lot of smut in this so hopefully it won't be so awkwardly written next time. I get you, I'm thinking of making a smut index at the end for those who don't want to read a full story! Thanks for reading!**

 **AyameKitsune: You will get plenty more, trust me. I'm planning on making this a long term story! Thank you for the support!**

 **Loaf tree39: Thanks! Detail it is. And Pitch will be a major character in the story later on!**

 **Trargur3 (who might also be the other guest?): Aster is an asshole, you are** **most definitely right about that! Pitch will have a reaction to all this but I'm still working out what sort of reaction he'll have. I'm try to refrain from letting any characters get too OOC. Thanks for reading!**


	5. Chapter 5

One Week Later

Jack sat on the bed with his legs crossed. A book was propped up on his knees as he leaned into the words, losing himself in whatever story it was telling. He noticed it was getting easier and easier to focus. The first time Aster brought him things to do it he never actually used anything. There were a few decks of cards, some books, blank journals with pens and pencils, typical things. _Reading,_ Jack laughed bitterly in his head. _If Peter could see me now._ Just the thought of his old companion was enough to form a thick lump in his throat. Jack went back to focusing on the black print in front of him but every time Jack went for a welcome distraction, he was unable to take his mind off the way his collar rubbed his neck raw or the way the chains clicked together when he switched positions.

It was that sound, that horrible jangling metal sound, that kept him up at night. Whenever Aster returned and ordered him to bend over it was the only sound he could hear besides Aster's rhythmic grunts and skin slapping skin.

Jack put his book down. The thoughts taunting his concentration made any attempt at distracting himself fruitless. He didn't fight back anymore. There were a few times when he tried to kick Aster away. It never worked, and eventually Jack realized it was pointless. The boss had to have noticed the change in Jack's behavior-if the constant chatter was anything to go by. Yes, the cold, heartless mafia ringleader didn't know how to shut his mouth. He went off about the weather, the incompetence of his subordinates, the tremendous work load, among other things. Jack didn't hate hearing about that stuff, that must have meant Aster was starting to trust him? It was at least better than the alternative, but he resented the older man and found it hard to not imagine himself snapping Aster's neck.

Jack pulled another book from the stack next to him and readjusted the sheets so they covered his naked lower half. In addition to autonomy, normal human interaction, and basic human rights, Jack was also deprived of his clothes. Was the air a bit chilly? Jack didn't really care, room temperature was the least of his worries. However the impending reminder that he was _completely on display to anyone who walked in the goddamn room_ was always a source of complaint.

Jack pulled the sheet over just as the door opened and Aster walked in. He let out a loud groan and literally _threw_ himself onto the bed. Jack bounced with the sudden added weight and scrambled to pull the sheet back over himself. Aster saw and chuckled lightly.

"Why do you bother?" He questioned.

Jack resisted the urge to scowl and roll his eyes-such things were not received well. "Doesn't mean I have to like you looking at me."

It was a tone that probably would have come across as disrespectful to anyone else, but Aster was used to Jack's attitude problem with no hope of remedying it. "Aw," Aster drawled and Jack never wanted to hit someone so badly in his life. "You don't have to be shy, love."

Jack paused. "What did you just call me?"

"Love?"

"That has nothing to do with this," the white haired boy said morosely and pulled the sheet tighter. "It's nowhere close."

"And I suppose you're an expert on the subject?" Aster propped himself up on his elbows facing Jack. He watched the boy with a raised eyebrow.

"I know enough about it to know this is rape. It's violence. It isn't real sex and it isn't anything close to love." Jack didn't realize how hostile he sounded the longer he talked. As he heard the words come out of his mouth, his brain screamed at him to stop before he said something warranting of a 'punishment.' How could he stop now though? He stopped putting up a fight and trying to escape, the least he could be allowed to do was talk. Aster didn't seem to have a problem with the jagged remarks earlier and as Jack hesitantly made eye contact with him he didn't look to have a problem with it then either.

For a few seconds the air was thick enough to suffocate an entire city and Jack thought about trying to retract what he said. He told himself he was going to play nice, he had a _plan_ dammit, and he might've just blown it with his fucking mouth. Jack felt like slamming one of the books by his legs into his head. Maybe if he had a concussion Aster wouldn't see the point in keeping him.

"You're right kid, you're just my _pet."_ Aster whispered it into his ear, sending another rigid chill down his spine and standing his pale hairs up on the back of his neck. Jack felt his heart sink with dread. There would be no careful treatment tonight whatsoever. Aster got up, leaving wrinkled sheets and a faint indent in the bed when he did so and stalked out of the room, leaving Jack alone once again with his tormenting thoughts.

…

Aster grumbled to himself as he made his way to his private office. _Violence,_ he scoffed, _if that boy knew the half of what I'm capable of…_

That snotty spoiled brat should be grateful. He never kept his toys around long, Aster had a bad habit of getting easily bored. But here they were, a whole week later and Aster couldn't help feeling like he could get more out of the boy. The white haired teen was an infinite mystery to Aster. Anyone who could last as long as Jack had surely must be worth a lot. When Aster does get his fill out of Jack, he may consider selling him, he decided.

 _No,_ the obsessively dominating side dismissed. _He's mine._

Aster immediately sighed and ran a hand through his thick hair. First actually taking the boy's insults to heart, then getting possessive? Jesus Christ.

Aster leaned back in his chair and picked up the first paper he saw. Work had to start somewhere. His eyes scanned over the words uninterested and mumbling them out loud under his breath. Honestly, why didn't he just quit?

 _Right. The money. And my lack of education about things irrelevant to the disposal of bodies._

Aster sighed again and dropped the recent report back onto his desk. It was just another statement from yet another murder. _And one I didn't even cause_.

Just then there was a loud rapping at the door and Aster jumped back, his eyes now wide open. "What the fuck is it?!"

As the gang boss clutched at his chest to stop the impending aneurysm, Phil walked in looking more disheveled than usual. "B-boss! There's a little guy here. He says he works for… for _him."_

And then the stout advisor drew in on himself and held his stack of files closer to his chest. Aster continued to glare at him with eyes darker than the storming sky. Huh, Phil hadn't noticed it before but Aster was very distinctly the personification of a storm. Abrupt, and audible from miles away.

Aster stood up, his chair scraping the floor as he did so. "Then why don't you show him in?" The man growled. He didn't have much regard for his own safety and obviously wasn't worried about a potential threat. N-not that Phil was about to roll his eyes and speak up about it! The quaking bespeckled man ran again out of the room and returned only moments later with a companion.

The new arrival had sandy blonde hair that stuck out in odd places and had a consistency akin to cotton candy, or so Phil observed. From Aster's perspective the man was shorter, only reaching to about Aster's waist, and that meant he was no problem for him.

"Can I help you?" Aster began in a conversational manner.

Phil wasn't surprised, all Aster's meetings started out like this. However they all had _starkly_ contrasting outcomes.

Aster waited while the small man dug around in a satchel for a folder and then hand it to the Aussie. The man didn't say anything but started signing with his hands.

 _Ah, he's mute,_ Aster realized and took the folder with a nod. Inside were a few more photos of his dead subordinates accompanied by a letter. _Of course Pitch would send a fucking letter_.

First Pitch cripples Aster's cause and then has the audacity to send a letter asking to _meet._ A meeting with Pitch Black himself was just what Aster needed. "Please tell your boss I'll see him tonight," Aster told the smaller man, not one to back down when he was obviously being tested.

The man wearing a gold colored button down smiled and went to leave. Then halted in his steps, he turned around like he forgot something and rummaged through his pockets for a small card. He handed Aster the business card with the name 'Sanderson Mansnoozie' written in gold cursive letters.

Aster raised an eyebrow at the name, "got any nicknames I can call you?"

Sanderson looked pleased and flashed him with a wide smile. Then he wrote down on a scrap piece of paper 'Sandy' and gave it to Aster.

"Sandy, it's a pleasure to meet you," Aster shook his hand and asked Phil to show him out. _How the hell does that guy work for Pitch of all people? The black scourge upon this earth?_ Aster wondered.

…

That night Aster and a few of his men walked into the Italian bistro on the corner and were escorted to a back room. The lights were dimmed and curtains drawn. No one resided in the room except a tall lanky figure with a gray hollowed face and sunken gold eyes. Aster told his men to wait at the door while Aster went to join the dark man. "Pitch Black."

"Aster Bunnymund. It's lovely to see you," he spoke in a silky English accent.

"I wish I could say the same," Aster replied curtly. "Can we skip this part and go to you explaining your recent actions?"

Pitch feigned innocence, "my actions? What do you mean by that?"

"You're scaring the whole city with your murders. My organization is getting a bad rep, people are calling us sloppy now. Not to mention I'm short staffed."

"Your organization? Ah, you mean your band of drinking buddies with the sketchy past time?"

"It isn't sketchy, it's _justice."_

"Nothing about you, Aster, is _justified."_

"Me and my people pick off the bad guys, we kill only the ones who deserve it. You on the other hand, have been killing indiscriminately. The police here are too wishy-washy, they let us help-covertly, Ah might add-and they get to stick with their pick-pocketers. That's how it works. We get money, they get to keep on looking efficient and people-friendly. So tell me what you want so you can quit whatever the hell your doing, maybe skip town, and Ah won't send my boys after you," Aster growled, his temper rising with every word.

Pitch looked at Aster, then threw his head back and laughed. "You...You think this is because I want some kind of favor?! You really are a funny guy Aster. No, that's not even close to what I want. What I want, is control of this city, like you have now."

"Well that isn't happening. This conversation is over," Aster slammed his hands on the table and made to walk out. But Pitch stopped him.

"I hear you've got a new plaything. The boys and I are betting on how long it takes for this one to die like the others. He would be a much better addition to my side of the city."

" _You son of a bitch,"_ Aster growled and began walking his way back to where the smug man sat. "You shut your mouth about my business. Or I promise, it _will be the death of you."_

Then Aster turned and left with his mind plagued with thoughts of Pitch running his hands of Jack's body just as he had done, and tasting his skin just as he did. And it twisted Aster's stomach in ways he never thought imaginable.

…

Aster returned to his room where Jack sat faithfully in his bed. Not that he really had a choice to get up or not. The older man shut the door quietly when he saw his toy sleeping peacefully in the tangle of sheets and he shrugged off his coat. Then he toed off his shoes and layed down next to Jack. He hesitantly put an arm over the boy's waist.

Jack woke up immediately, looking startled.

"Shut up. Don't say anything."

So Jack didn't. He didn't move either. Aster was doing that intimate thing again. On rare occasions Aster sometimes talked about the things on his mind, only work-related things, never the personal. Jack wrote it off as a way to sort out his agenda. It was perfect, Jack could remember Aster's whole schedule and soon he would use it to plan his escape out.

So Jack listened and waited to hear what sorts of things Aster would need to do, where he would need to go. But none of that came. What came instead surprised Jack.

"How come you're still here? You talk back, and cause me trouble, but you're still here."

Aster told him not to talk, so he didn't. That was the only thing he said before he was snoring quietly into Jack's hair.

And Jack was shoving a pin he found in Aster's coat pocket into the lock on his handcuffs.

…

The next morning, after Jack's food was brought to Aster's door, Aster sat at his desk doing paperwork while Jack ate. As usual, Jack kept the sheets tight around him even as he struggled to take the wrapper off a blueberry muffin. Aster rolled his eyes when Jack started trying to use his teeth to rip it off.

Jack finished the muffin and downed a glass of orange juice before Aster was undoing his cuffs and directing him towards the bathroom. If Jack was in a mood for thinking positive, he could put decent food and frequent showers on the list.

Aster took a key out of his pants pocket and began unlocking Jack's ankles, wrists, and the collar on his neck. He wouldn't admit it, but Aster flinched a little when he saw the bruises all over the boy's frame. _He did that, because he's a horrible human being._

"No funny business," Aster warned and left Jack alone in the bathroom.

Once the door shut, Jack was alone again. He went to the bathroom and then took his things into the shower with him. He turned the water on a faintly warm level. Like usual, he rubbed his raw wrists gingerly and ducjed his head under the lukewarm water. The solitude was nice, but there were plenty of times Jack had time to himself. It was really beginning to lose its charm.

Jack ran his hands through his wet hair and reached out for the shampoo. Aster didn't care how long Jack was in there, so the boy took his time. He let the water fall over his bruises and scrubbed them hard enough to cause pain. But if it somehow erased the memories associated with them then it was worth it.

Jack wondered how long it would take before Aster let him walk around. He wondered how long he would have to keep up his submissive, docile facade before it paid off. How long would he be here?

After Jack turned the water off and wrapped a towel around his shoulders, he stepped out onto the plush bathroom rug. _Not long, apparently,_ Jack smiled as he noticed the small stack of clothes sitting on the counter. Aster must have brought them in at some point.

With a grin and internal cry of victory, Jack slipped on the dark brown pants and light blue dress shirt knowing he was that much closer to sneaking out. The color scheme was pretty close to his clothes when he slept outside. It was a weird, nostalgic feeling Jack got got when he examined himself in the mirror. It looked so _familiar_ , but these clothes were far nicer. Jack wondered if Aster did it on purpose.

Jack felt warm wet drops drip down on his hands that still hovered over the top button of the shirt. Tears spilled down his cheeks as he stared at himself. Who would have thought he'd be in this position... he had food… and a place to sleep. But the cost was too much. He didn't know what would happen after he left. Aster would still be here. Jack would have to leave town.

Tears flowed even harder. He forced them to stop when he heard Aster's voice from the other side of the door.

"Hey, kid. Are ya alright?"

"I'm fine," Jack answered but inside his head was screaming the truth. _I'll never be alright._

…

 **I'm sorry for the slowness here guys, I'm trying to keep it slower so you don't get emotional whiplash! It'll pick up though… in ways nobody's going to like.**

 **MUAHAHA**

 **And thanks to everyone faving, following and reviewing! I've been a little busy to reply to them but I will eventually because I have seen them and I love you all!**


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